For the first few dozen pages of Donna Tartt's 'The Little Friend', I was distracted by the punctuation; semi-colons and colons: popping up in; unexpected places - dashes (and brackets) too - . Then the story took me and I was immersed in a sweltering 1970s Mississippi, with screen doors, snakes, family tragedy, methamphetamine, preachers and rednecks.
It was a long slog through 550 pages, for which I hoped I'd be rewarded with some answers, but, seen mostly through the eyes of 12 year old Harriet, it wasn't that kind of book. On the contrary, it posed unresolved questions and centred on misunderstandings, thereby doing quite a good impression of life itself.
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